Chosen by Fate (40 page)

Walking the Otherworld wasn’t something a shaman routinely did, and Caleb hadn’t had a reason to do it again. Now, he had every reason to do it. The only problem was, he’d be going in blind, with no idea how to contact the Goddess Essenia, or whether she’d even see him.

It didn’t matter. It was the only hope Wraith had. Despite their plans to go to Maine, he knew Wraith’s time was running out. Thinking about that, however, made it next to impossible for him to trance himself deeply enough to enter the Otherworld. Still, he kept trying, focusing on the beauty of the surroundings he’d chosen, a conservatory surrounded by nature, just a couple of miles down the road from their hotel.

Eventually, his thoughts aligned with his slow, steady breaths and the warm pump of blood through his veins. With his eyes closed, the darkness cradled him, and he sank into pure sensation, feeling the kiss of air on his body and smelling the pungent aroma of greenery inside and out, as if the walls that enclosed him had faded away. Bright light shone through his lids, its purity warming his body and clearing his head of all conscious thought and troubles. It was only when he felt a gentle presence encircling him that he opened his eyes.

It was the spirits of his ancestors gathering around him, almost like his very own bubble, blocking the vibrant life within his body so it could walk among those who no longer possessed it.

“I ask to speak with the Goddess Essenia,” he called, immediately aware of how the air around him shuddered, as if his request had disturbed his ancestors.

He looked into the vastness around him, nothing but a swirl of soft lights and shadows, and made his request again. And then again. Until he lost track of the passage of time.

And even so, his call went unanswered. Hopelessness washed over him, causing his ancestors to moan, the sorrowful sound mixing with his words like background music.

“Your desperation is a thing unwanted here, Shaman.”

He didn’t see her, but he knew instantly it was her: Essenia. Her voice was so sweetly melodic that Caleb instinctively closed his eyes to savor it. His body shuddered as her scent tickled each pore and hair on his body. Beautiful, he thought. Exquisite.

Her laugh made him think of rain falling into the ocean, the essence of life itself.

“Have you forgotten why you sought me out, Shaman?”

Immediately, Caleb opened his eyes. Backed by light, he could only see her silhouette, but it was enough to know that her beauty was terrifying—unlike anything any mortal was meant to see in his lifetime. And yet, instead of losing himself in her image, he formed the image of Wraith in his mind, complete with white hair, bluish skin, and hazy eyes. It gave him the focus he needed to speak.

“Goddess, I ask you to spare the Para-Ops team’s wraith from the change that is awaiting her. Whatever purpose her change serves, I ask for the opportunity to meet it without requiring her death.”

“You need not speak, Caleb O’Flare. I can hear your thoughts quite well. Yet I am deaf to your request. The wraith’s purpose was known before her birth but now is uncertain. It is only with the change the wraith may redeem herself.”

“Redeem . . .” Caleb stopped talking and let his thoughts speak for him. Redeem herself from what?

“My reason does not require your knowledge of it.”

Then deprive me of the knowledge, but please, save her. I . . . I love her.

“You love her? A wraith? A being with no past and no future? How can you love her when she does not even love herself?”

The presence of Caleb’s ancestors fluttered at her words, alerting him to their significance. He spoke without realizing it. “Is that what you require from her?”

He felt her ascent in the way she drew closer to him. His skin began to swelter and his hair to smolder. He stood his ground.

“It is the only way one can truly value the life given to her. Without it, my vision and love is lost, as well.”

“But she’s lived alone for ten years, suffering pain at anyone’s touch.”

“Yet she has lived. Her pain is from acting against herself. Her isolation is her own choosing.”

“It would be what most choose. You ask too much of her.”

That angered her. He felt it in the blast of heat that pushed him back several steps. The circle of security surrounding him wavered, then strengthened again. He, at least, wasn’t alone in this, and he would lend all that he was to Wraith. “I’m sorry, but please, give her another chance. I’ll teach her to love herself. I’ll love her enough for both of us.”

Her answer was silence, and hope welled within him. Was she considering—

“I have given her not one chance to do the right thing, but two. Most people aren’t so lucky. Her test has already begun. There’s nothing I can do to change that. What’s been set in motion cannot be undone. The choice is hers. It has been all along.”

“I don’t understand—”

“I know you don’t, Shaman. But know you were destined to come together for a reason. If she loves herself as she loves you, she’ll make the right choice. She’ll choose her present and her future rather than her past.”

He didn’t miss her certainty that Wraith loved him. It struck him silent for one second, then gave him the strength to continue speaking. “Her past is what she’s been looking for . . .”

“She doesn’t have to look any longer.”

Understanding made his body jerk. “She’s learning something right now? Where is she?”

“Don’t interfere, Caleb O’Flare. I warn you, if you do, it won’t change matters. In fact, it might just make me angry enough to punish her again. You wouldn’t want that. I wouldn’t, either. Another, however, might demand it.”

“Another . . . ?” He shook his head as light flashed, then dimmed. A warning, perhaps? “I won’t interfere, I promise. But I need to see her again before she—before she dies.”

“You’re that certain she’ll make the wrong choice?”

“I think she’ll make the only choice you’ve presented her with. The deaths of every wraith prior to her prove that.”

“Yet Mahone has indicated my children are all capable of growing. Perhaps he was wrong?”

“Mahone?” Caleb wondered if he’d misheard. Mahone had a direct line to the Earth Goddess? And apparently, he’d been sticking up for humans and Otherborn . . . “Mahone is a very smart man. You apparently agree. Please, if she’s to meet her fate, I need to be there. I need to see her.” I need to tell her I love her. I need to be able to say good-bye.

Essenia sighed, apparently hearing his thoughts and being swayed by them. “Very well, Shaman. I will allow you to see her during her final minutes. But as a spectator only. From here—”

“No!” Caleb yelled. Almost immediately, he waited for the Goddess to incinerate him for his disrespect. Instead, she merely smiled sadly.

“Take what I offer, Caleb O’Flare, for it is all you shall receive. Or go back to wait for her and hope you do not wait an eternity.”

It was a mistake coming here, Caleb thought. He’d left Wraith alone to face her final test, and now he was unable to aid her. He had sidelined himself yet again, just like he had during the War, when he’d refused to help a prisoner of war and learned only later the man was the feline prince. As if identity should have made a difference. Unfortunately, it did. That was a harsh reality. And it was certainly the case now.

“Stop torturing yourself, Shaman. It displeases me. All will be as it should be. You’ve given the wraith all she needs to make the right decision. The rest is up to her.”

 

Wraith waited for Caleb as long as she could. Until the urgency pressing down on her told her that if she waited any longer, her chance would be gone. Cursing, she wrote him a note and left it in the center of his bed. In it, she thanked him for seeing more in her than a bitter, hopeless ghost. She told him she’d miss him, his touch and his goodness, if she didn’t make it back. And then she thanked him for loving her and teaching her how to love again, as well. Grabbing his pillow, she pressed it against her face, inhaled his essence so it gave her strength, then left.

Instinct led her, and in less than twenty minutes she’d reached the grocery store. She got there just in time.

Looking through her windshield, she could see that Christina and Annie were just walking into the grocery store. Her anticipation swelled until a beat-up old van pulled in front of the store and three bulky men armed with guns got out. They took a quick look around, then went inside.

Shit. Pounding the steering wheel, Wraith parked across the street, strapped on the weapons she’d brought with her, and ran toward the back of the store. She’d sneak in that way, gaining the element of surprise.

When she tried to open the building’s service door, however, it was locked. She jimmied the lock open in under a minute, but every second pressed down on her like a dragon breathing down her neck. Silently, she opened the door and peered inside. She could hear the men taunting the girls at the front of the store.

One of the three men had stationed himself in the back storage room. He was huge, with dark, coarse hair coating his bare arms and peeking above the collar of his dingy tank top. He stood with his arms braced in the doorway, watching what his friends were doing while he called out his encouragement. From his words and the increasing hysteria in the girls’ voices out front, it was apparent the men had forgotten their quest for money and were now inclined to take their booty from the girls instead.

Bastards.

“. . . our lucky day, Randy! I’ve always wanted to fuck a college girl. Looks like this is our chance . . .”

When Wraith heard the words, spoken not by the gorilla in front of her but by one of the men up front, she flinched. Instinctively knowing what was about to happen, she threw herself forward, only her body didn’t move. A sudden paralysis overtook her, locking her in place. She couldn’t speak. Could hardly even breathe. The words of the man up front repeated over and over in her head, each time causing her temples to throb. The pain was so intense, she became nauseated and would have doubled over if her body had allowed it. It didn’t.

Those words . . . They flooded her brain with memories. The memories of a girl named Christina. Memories of a happy childhood, parents who loved her, first kisses and first dates and dreams about other firsts . . .

In that moment, she finally understood.

She hadn’t met Christina at some point in her human life. She’d
been
Christina.

She wasn’t a gang member. She’d been in a sorority and the three dots on her hand had been her one act of bravado, remnants of a tattoo of the Delta Gamma Greek letters, including a triangle with three points.

Annie was
her
sister. A sister who was going to die if Wraith—

You can’t save her, Wraith. That’s not why you’re here.

The female voice drifted through her head at the exact same moment Wraith felt her muscles unlock. With a desperate lunge, she stepped forward. The knowledge of everything she’d lost and could lose again pushed out of her in a whimper.

The man inside the room turned instantly, his gun at the ready.

“What the . . . ?” He froze when he saw Wraith, her own gun leveled on his chest. Her arms were steady but his were shaking, either from drugs or nerves. Laughter and screams were coming from the front of the store now. The man grinned and stepped toward her. “Who—or rather
what
—the fuck are you? They get a couple of sorority hotties and what? I get a dead dyke who wants to play Dirty Harry?”

Wraith pushed back her pain and grinned, knowing how scary she looked when she did so. “That’s right. I’m here to make your day.”

The man laughed. “Too late. They’ve been fucked ten ways to Sunday by now.”

No, she thought. They couldn’t have acted that fast. But she knew deep inside the man was telling the truth. That time had ticked by while she’d been frozen. While fate had ensured what was meant to happen would happen.

“Fuck fate,” she muttered defiantly. She fired her gun twice into the man’s knees in quick succession. He screamed and toppled to the ground. Racing past him, she charged into the store and nearly gagged at what she saw.

The heaviest man was on Annie, choking her. No, no, no, no. But even as Wraith fired her gun and sent him flying backward, she knew it was too late. Annie’s eyes were open but lifeless, her head hanging at an odd angle. The other man, skinny with greasy blond hair, sat on top of Christina and raised his weapon. Wraith shot him dead center in between his eyes. He hung poised on the girl for two seconds before toppling off her.

Wraith rushed to Christina, praying she was still alive.

That
she
was still alive.

She was. Barely. The skirt of her dress had been pushed up, leaving her thighs obscenely splayed open. Her face was cut and bruised from where they’d hit her. She made no sound, but her gaze was focused on her sister, even when Wraith knelt beside her. Her gaze wasn’t dazed as Wraith would have expected, or even hopeful, but filled with the nightmarish knowledge of what had just happened to them and that her sister was dead. As she glanced at Annie,
her sister
, Wraith felt the same despair but knew the other girl couldn’t see it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Wraith said. “I should have gotten here faster . . .”

Christina’s face finally turned toward her. A furrow marred her brow. “Do I . . . do I”—she coughed, and Wraith heard the gurgle of blood in her throat—“know you?” she finished.

Wraith took her hand. “No. I mean, yes. We met a long time ago, and I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to get you out of here and take you home, Christina.”

“No.”

Wraith froze. Had she imagined the girl’s refusal? But the girl repeated it again, this time louder. “No. I want to die. Just let me die.”

Wraith stared at her. Let her die? It was her pain talking, a pain she’d live with for a long time, her whole life in fact, but someday she’d see . . . Wraith shook her head. She felt like she’d gone crazy, talking about Christina as a wholly independent person when they were one person in two bodies . . . “I’m going to call for help.” Digging into her pocket for her cell phone, Wraith took it out and flipped it open. “They can be here—”